


A Twisted Time

by Sapphiresterre



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-14 21:10:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3425690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sapphiresterre/pseuds/Sapphiresterre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dipper just wanted to have an evening of monster hunting, not to accidentally travel space and time and have a pharaoh demand his hand in marriage.</p><p>(one-sided Billdip and Dipeon)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Twisted Time

**Author's Note:**

> This story was orginally part of my oneshots story: Shots in the Dark but since this story became more than a oneshot, I have moved it to its own story doc.

“Okay so the barf fairies  _should_ be over…” he peered around the tree, “…there. Darnit! I’ve missed them  _again._ ”

The nineteen year old sighed and kicked a rock. Well he might as well mark the spot on his map. Taking the parchment and a pen out of his pocket, he leaned against the tree just as he heard a trampling through the trees. He perked and put away the paper. While the noise sounded too loud to be a fairy, the creature could still be something he hadn’t seen before! He picked his way through a mine field of roots and shrubbery to near the source of the sound.

He leaned around a tree and stared.  _No way._

A sphinx batted at a frantic butterfly. A  _sphinx_ batted at a butterfly.

He whipped back behind the tree, thrilled. Never mind  _why_ the Egyptian creature was in the middle of a forest far from Egypt, he just  _had_ to figure out a way to approach the creature!

Dipper leaned against the bark, thinking through plan after plan. He could catch the animal…but he didn’t bring a strong enough net. He could…no, no…well maybe he could…

“Got it.” He murmured and pulled out a small pad of paper from his pocket. “I’ll just watch and–“

The sphinx’s ear twitched and the feline whirled, spotting Dipper.

And then the sphinx shot away.

Dipper swore and began the chase. The cat must have heard him talking to himself! Dummy, dummy,  _dummy!_

“C’mon, _think._ ” Dipper berated himself as he dodged the undergrowth in the trees. “What do you know about Egyptian culture?”

His eyes brightened. That’s  _right._ According to a few ancient and translated tomes, sphinxes could understand Egyptian. But could they understand the, horridly mispronounced, modern version of the language?

Deciding to try anyway, Dipper shouted in garbled Egyptian.  _“I am not your enemy!”_

The sphinx skidded to a halt in an open clearing to stare at the clearly non-Egyptian human. Dipper swallowed harshly. Oh  _damnit_ it was going to attack him! He slammed on the breaks

Instead he crashed into the sphinx’s flank, instinctively grasping the animal’s fur to balance himself.

The feline yowled and leapt, trying to shake him off. Dipper, not wanting to be thrown off at such a high speed, clung for dear life and internally hoping that he wasn’t about to die.

The teen’s stomach churned and his head whirled. The colors blurred around him and he could just barely make out in glimpses what he thought to be was the construction of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, and then the building of the Statue of Liberty, and there was the Eiffel Tower and  _whoa_ was that the first pyramid in Egypt? The whirlwind seemed to slow and then the weather became scorching hot.

Just barely, he hung on as the sphinx’s direction stopped then turned sharply  _down_  and then they were weightless. A shock raced through his arms as the sphinx landed roughly. Nerves numb from the force, Dipper finally let go. Panting, because  _hell it was so hot,_  and watched the sphinx sprint away, sand flying behind it.

Dipper blinked.  _Sand?_  What was a field of  _sand_ doing in a  _forest?_ He sat up, swaying slightly. Ugh, would the world  _stop spinning?_

And then he heard a booming, high pitched voice.

He whipped his dizzy focus onto the speaker and paled because  _whoa_ he was _definitely_ not in the forest anymore. There, in front of a gigantic crowd of people with rich colored skin, stood a grinning bronze man with what couldn’t be anything other than the clothes of a pharaoh. From the headgear, and long chin piece to the jeweled arms and white robe, the young man just  _bled_  authority.

The bronze skinned man turned to his people and raised his arms, announcing something in a foreign language.

Dipper scrambled to his feet, his heart hammering, and his balance titled. He teetered in place, wide-eyed and scared because he was  _still_ dizzy and the pharaoh probably had plans to kill him or something and he  _really_ needed to find the sphinx because  _this isn’t his home_ and–he paused. Maybe not even be his own  _time._

The loud voice snagged his attention once more and he ripped his gaze from the sun warmed sand to the widely gesturing speaker. He flinched when his eyes met the stranger’s piercing stare. The teen rubbed his arm,uncomfortable under the scrutiny of not only the young leader, but the pharaoh’s followers as well.

He fidgeted as the man gestured at Dipper, the cloudy sky, and then back to Dipper. The crowd cheered and Dipper edged away, bumping into a scorching hot surface and he recoiled, unconsciously turning. He stared.  _Whoa._  Pyramids were  _huge._ Curiosity peaking, he swiveled only to see the lone pyramid, a giant palace not too far away, and huts scattered about the sandy land. Oddly enough, there were no other pyramids in sight.

Remembering his situation, he shook his head and returned his focus onto the pharaoh. He needed to go  _home._ Maybe he could find the sphinx and escape…

Unfortunately for him, the pharaoh himself strode forwards, shadowed by a pair of bulky men. Dipper staggered in retreat, his feet sinking in the sand, but the Egyptian leader just snapped his fingers and the pair of muscled men grabbed Dipper’s biceps. 

Dipper struggled.  _Oh hell,_ they really were gonna kill him or something! The teen looked wildly from one man to the other until he finally settled on staring at the eerie smile on the pharaoh’s face.

“L–Let me go…” He stammered.

The pharaoh paused to stare with wide-eyes. Then his smile stretched into a grin. The leader placed a hand on his robed chest and declared a word in smooth gibberish.

The teen hesitated and blankly watched the man place a hand on Dipper’s chest and pitched his voice, as if asking a question.

Dipper frowned, thinking he understood. “Uh… I’m Dipper.”

The man furrowed his brow, mouthing the words, before trying to pronounce the strange name. “Uh….I….mmm…dip…per….”

Dipper blinked. “Oh, no no no, Dipper.”

The stranger frowned. “Oh, no no no no, dipper?”

Dipper thinned his lips. “Dipper.”

“Dipper?”

The teen nodded. “Dipper.”

The pharaoh patted Dipper’s chest. “Dipper.”

The man then attempted to reintroduce himself by placing a hand on his chest again and repeating the same ancient language.

Dipper frowned. Oddly enough, the stranger kinda felt like a Bill to him. Could he get away with calling him that instead of the complex, tongue twister that the guy was repeating? Oh…but then that would be inconsiderate to ask that of someone, wouldn’t it? What was that called? Culture erasure? 

Dipper bit his lip. Maybe while he learned to pronounce the man’s name properly, he could give the stranger a nickname?

“Um…” the teen fidgeted. “Can I just call you Bill?”

Bill furrowed his brow and asked a question.

Dipper struggled to place a hand on his chest since the bulky men still held his arms and said. “Dipper.” Then he pointed to the pharaoh. “Bill.”

The pharaoh stared for a beat then started to smile.

Bill nodded and tapped his chest. “Bill.”

The man turned to his bulky guards and spoke. Dipper shifted in place, feeling like he was missing something important. Bill then turned to his followers and made grand gestures. The crowd cheered.

The guards dragged Dipper forwards, following Bill as he led the way through the parting crowd. One by one, the Egyptians dropped to their knees as the Dipper passed and the teen fidgeted.

He wondered to himself.  _Why are they bowing after_ I  _pass and not the pharaoh?_

The guards dragged him out of the crowd and towards the giant building towering near the pyramid. Dipper tried to even his breathing as they moved, sweating in the searing humidity.  _Geeze_ , it was  _hot_ and he could just  _feel_ his dizziness worsen. Ughhh, he needed water or else he would pass out soon. He grimaced as the sun beat against his bare arms. And some sunscreen would be nice too.

Dipper shook his head.  _Priorities._ Where were they?

He looked up and gasped.

Pictures of crumbling ancient Egyptian palaces couldn’t even  _compare_  to the same palaces in mint condition. They climbed up the steps to the palace and he reeled as he inhaled.  _Whoa_ that was some  _strong_ incense. His focus jumped from the sharp tang of the scent the sight of alabaster pillars inscribed with hieroglyphics. He studied the polished chiseled inscriptions with tireless fascination.

Whoo, how did sculptors manage to chisel such detailed and colorful work into stone?

They ventured further through the giant clay built rooms and wound through a few hallways until Bill flung open a pair of wooden doors with flair. A pair of young jackals rushed forwards and bounced around the pharaoh’s heels. Dipper stared at the thin yet clearly healthy puppies and tried to connect the man’s previous eerie smiles with the goofy grin that Dipper could just barely see him send to his canines. 

Bill turned, authoritative once more, and spoke a few short words to the burly men who, in turn, finally released the tired teen. They left the room and shut the doors behind them.

The pharaoh exchanged his frown for a fond smile as he patted his dog’s heads and then gestured at Dipper. The puppies scampered over and Dipper pursed his lips into an awkward smile. Oh gosh, did the pharaoh expect him to pet his dogs? Or was it a ploy to train the puppies into biting stranger’s hand? 

Despite his apprehensions, he held out his hand for the dogs to sniff, inwardly hoping the animals wouldn’t rip off his hand. Instead of the anticipated pain, he giggled when a couple of rough and slimy textures coated his ticklish palm. Though he tried to stifle the sound, his giggles encouraged the pups to cover his hand in licks.

The man’s voice reminded him that he wasn’t alone and he stiffened, avoiding the pharaoh’s gaze as he straightened and looked around the grand room. From the elaborately decorated vases etched with images, the fragrance of the incense, and the humid air, to the painted walls, the golden jewelry resting atop wooden tables, and the gigantic bed hidden behind a veil-like cloth, Dipper’s jaw dropped. 

Well sure he read quite a bit on Egyptian culture, with a focus in the mythical creatures, he never quite realized that…

Pharaohs were  _wealthy._

Because  _geeze._ Not only was the room  _massive,_ there was just so much  _stuff._  How much did one guy even  _need?_

While he stared, he failed to notice the man sauntering over with a smug grin. Dipper only noticed when a warm weight looped around his waist and tugged him against a silk clothed chest. The teen recoiled, protesting loudly, and tried to wiggle free but Bill just walked him to a table lined with jewels and accessories. As Dipper pushed against the man’s chest, Bill swept a hand above the table and declared in ancient Egyptian.

Dipper stopped struggling to give Bill a flat look. Didn’t the guy realize he didn’t know ancient Egyptian? While he could pick up bits and pieces of somewhat familiar words, pronunciation had changed over the centuries and he was left lost with a language barrier in a foreign land.

Bill just rolled his eyes and released him to pluck a large golden triangle plated necklace with an triangular ruby embedded in the center off the table. He swiped Dipper’s battered old hat and and placed the accessory over the protesting teen’s head. The pharaoh nodded with approval but Dipper shook his head. 

“I’m not wearing this, it’s not mine. And give me back my hat!” He grasped the necklace to remove the gift until Bill pinned him with an alarmingly lethal stare.

“Um…” Dipper fidgeted with the golden pleats of the necklace. “Well, maybe a little while wouldn’t hurt…”

Bill smiled, clearly pleased, and picked up a golden band and grabbed the teen’s wrist. Dipper scrunched his face. What was this  _weirdo_  up to?

Someone knocked on the door.

The man perked, put down the accessory, and approached the door. He straightened as he grasped the metal ring adorned on the wood and tugged the metal toward him to open the door. A servant stood in the doorway and bowed her head upon seeing the pharaoh. She then presented a a piece of folded white cloth.

Bill accepted the fabric without a word and shut the door, turning to the puzzled teen. The Egyptian unfolded the clothing to reveal a white fabric rimmed with red. Understanding dawned and he glared at the skirt like fabric. Even though Dipper was  _sure_ the kilt like clothing was technically called a shendyt, he absolutely  _refused_ to wear the clothing. His legs would be bare to the sun and would burn faster than…well, something that burned really fast! Either way, he’d have tomato colored legs!

He shook his head, resolute in his decision. When Bill prowled forwards, Dipper puffed his chest, narrowed his eyes, and furrowed his brows. He could take wearing the necklace, he could even take the jerk taking his hat, but the  _shendyt?_ Nuh-uh. He had to draw the line  _somewhere._

Bill returned the glare. Rising to the challenge, slowly removed the necklace and crossed his arms, all the while glaring unblinkingly into the man’s piercing stare. He shook his head.

The jerk huffed and reopened the door to speak curtly with the guards and handed the clothing to one of them. Just as the one given the cloth moved away, Bill closed the door.

Dipper maintained the glare as the man approached again and spoke. Warily, he stood his ground but the man just ignored him as he hovered a hand above the table. Apparently coming to a conclusion, Bill snagged a golden band off the table, and then snatched the startled teen’s wrist. Though Dipper pulled away, Bill managed to slide the band up the teen’s arm to stay near his shoulder.

Dipper’s turn to huff had arrived. Just  _why_  in the world the  _pharaoh_  would be accessorizing him? Honestly, the mere thought was ridiculous. 

Someone knocked once more. Bill once again strode to the door.

He spoke to someone outside, and then stepped aside to allow a stranger holding white clothing and a pair of sandals to walk in.

“Dipper,” Bill addressed the teen, then turned to the man at his side and uttered a few words.

The man stepped forwards, placing a hand on his chest and announced with clear diction. “Imhotep.”

Understanding, Dipper mimicked the man with a nod. “Dipper.”

The man with a rich brown complexion wearing only a white kilt and sandals unfolded the clothes. Apparently the clothing was a robe similar to Bill’s but slightly less elaborate. Did the guy  _really_ expect him to wear a  _robe?_ Dipper shifted to frown at Bill but the man just grinned and nodded, tacking on a few words with an encouraging intonation.

Dipper shook his head and backed away as Imhotep walked closer. The jerk of a pharaoh tag teamed with the guy and cornered the teen against a wall. Bill then grabbed Dipper’s arm and tugged on his shirt.

The teen blushed in mortification and finally shouted. “S–Stop!”

He batted away their hands, and yanked the clothing out of Imhotep’s hands. If they were going to force him to wear the stupid clothes, then he was going to be the one to dress  _himself, damnit!_  

He curled his fists in the clothing and  _shoved_. Surprised, Bill and Imhotep stumbled back, and Dipper seized the chance. He slammed his palms into their chests and pushed them back towards the door until the dummies  _finally_  understood.

Bill grinned slyly but relented and spoke to Imhotep. The young man dropped the battered trucker’s hat onto the table and, together, the men left the room. 

Dipper tossed the clothing onto the same surface, grasped his hat, and rushed to the lone opening in the wall by the bed. He peered outside with hope only to deflate. He was too high up to risk jumping out the window, and a good four men blocked the only other way out. He sighed and turned to the clothing.

Looks like he’d be escaping in a  _robe_.

So he shed his hat and shirt to put on the robe, which hid the fact he secretly wore his pants because he was  _not_  removing those, no matter  _how_  hot he got. He plopped on his hat, removed the band, and went to the door. He stopped to breathe, then pulled on the metal ring.

Once the door opened, the young pharaoh stopped speaking to stare. He smiled, scanning Dipper, until his eyes zeroed on his arm. Oh geeze, what did the guy want  _now?_  Bill grabbed Dipper’s arm and dragged him back to the table and presented the jewels again. Oh. Dipper stubbornly shook his head until Bill snatched his hat. 

“Aw,  _c’mon.”_ Dipper whined. “Not my hat!” 

The teen tried to snatch the blue piece of clothing until Bill held up up the band and necklace in the other hand.

Dipper rolled his eyes. “ _Fine.”_ He consented reluctantly. “Just give me back my hat when you’re done. _”_

Bill grinned and set to work, bedazzling him with the fancy necklace, two bicep bands, and twin gold bracelets. Only then, once Dipper was accessorized, did Bill return the precious, beaten up old hat.

The pharaoh then called. “Imhotep.” and tacked on a few more words then ushered Dipper out of the room. 

Bill pushed the teen to Imhotep’s side and addressed the guards. The bulky men straightened further, alert, and flanked Dipper and Imhotep. Bill waved farewell as Imhotep took the lead and Dipper, with the muscled men on either side of him, rubbed his arm and followed.

As they walked, Dipper constantly adjusted his hat. Just  _where_ were they going? The walk dragged on until they  _finally_ ventured outside of the palace to a…garden? Was the palace built right next to an oasis?

The men herded Dipper down a set of stairs and they took shelter beneath one of the several fig trees. Imhotep grasped a pair of sticks laying near the tree’s roots and then sat on a large flat rock next to the plant. He patted the rock’s surface. The guards continued to stand and Dipper stared.

“Dipper,” he called, then spoke a few more words.

Understanding, Dipper sat beside the young Egyptian and Imhotep handed him a stick. The man then dragged the stick through the sand until symbols and soon hieroglyphs formed.

Imhotep tapped the ground with his stick and placed his free hand on his bare chest.”Imhotep.”

Dipper paused a moment to absorb the situation. Why was the guy writing in the sand but saying his nam– Realization clicked.

The teen tried to write neatly for once and etched his name with the stick. Afterwards, he placed a hand on his chest and stated. “Dipper.”

Imhotep nodded, smiling. “Dipper.” 

He tacked on a few more words then rewrote his name and nudged the teen’s shoulder. Did the guy want him to rewrite his name or write what the guy wrote? Deciding to test his second theory, Dipper carefully mimicked the man’s hieroglyphs.

“Imhotep.” He announced once finished.

Imhotep grinned and Dipper couldn’t help but smile sheepishly. So this was a language lesson, then.

They continued on with Imhotep drawing an image or pointing to the image he spoke of, announced the name and then wrote the hieroglyphs for that name and then would have Dipper rewrite the hieroglyphs. Slowly, as Dipper started to recognize some of the hieroglyphs from his own studies, they quickened their lesson until Imhotep began to explain Dipper’s situation.

“Okay,” he muttered to himself because Imhotep and the guards lurking nearby couldn’t understand him anyway. “They think I’m a  _god_  because of my ‘cloud’ colored skin and because I appeared out of nowhere on a sphinx? Huh.”

Their lesson stretched on and the sun began its descent. A servant appeared and handed Dipper and Imhotep a goblet each filled with water. The teen thanked the girl, who bowed deeply and he blushed. Really, was bowing necessary? Imhotep spoke a few words and the girl hurried away.

Hoping the man didn’t threaten or anything bad other than telling her to leave, Dipper lifted the golden metal to his lips and tipped his head back. Ah, water never tasted so good. 

“Dipper.”

Dipper paused to pay attention and murmured to himself. “Oh– _kay_  so the first pyramids were built because the pharaoh, Bill apparently, had an obsession with  _triangles?_  Geeze, eccentric, much?”

He drank some more, watching the man write a few more words. Wait a minute, he recognized  _that_  symbol  _too_   _well_. That combination of images meant  _marriage_ , followed by his name and Bill’s…

His mind screeched to a halt and he choked on his drink.

They were marrying him to  _Bill_.


	2. A Twisted Time Part 2

_No._

Nearly choking on the water still in his mouth, Dipper shot to his feet, dropped the goblet, and  _sprinted_.

_Absolutely not._

He scrambled deeper into the oasis, the shouts of Imhotep and the guards following him.

_He would_ not  _marry Bill._

His foot snagged on a protruding stone and he flew through the air. His arms smacked the sandy soil and he skidded forwards, scraping his arms. He slowed to a stop just as his hands dipped into water. He groaned. Running in a oasis, where there was a  _lot_ of foliage on the ground, was a  _bad idea._

He spat out sand and pushed himself to his knees, wiping his damp palms on the robe. He looked up to see a pond…

…and a  _ton_ of faces staring at him.

Dipper swallowed harshly. Oh gosh, so many eyes watching him. Stiffly, the teen stood.

“Um…” he began, fidgeting with his hat that had somehow stayed on. “Hello?”

Coarse hands thudded onto his shoulder and he yelped when those same hands dragged him backwards. He craned his neck to see one of his previous guards. He cursed.

“Let me go!” He ordered and fought against the hold. 

He was  _not_ marrying the pharaoh! He’d escape and find the sphinx and they’d  _never be able to find him!_

The guard looped an arm around his waist and hefted him off the ground. Dipper struggled wildly as the bigger man tucked him beneath an arm and toted him back to the palace. All the while, Dipper kicked and pounded his fists against the man and demanded he be released. Nonetheless, the guard ignored his protests with ease.

Too soon, the man carried him up the steps where none other than Bill waited with a scowl. In light of his horrible evening, Dipper shot the pharaoh a death stare.

The teen spat out a curse and tacked on. “I’m  _not_  marrying you.”

Bill waved his hand and pivoted, striding into the palace. Dipper yelled and writhed but the guard wouldn’t set him free and Bill pointedly ignored the frustrated shouts. Dipper knew his voice would become raw and hoarse, but he was past the point of caring. He did  _not_ want to marry some stranger he  _just_ met and if they were going to  _force_ him then he was going to  _fight._

Bill projected his voice over Dipper’s own and the guard finally released his prisoner. Dipper dropped to the ground and pushed himself to his feet, glaring heatedly at the pharaoh.

The Egyptian directed his attention to the guard and spoke in short order. The guard nodded and strode out of the room, footsteps echoing on the clay floors. Once the footfalls faded, Bill whirled on Dipper.

The young man burst into a flurry of exclamations and Dipper recoiled but caught onto the pharaoh’s scolding.

Dipper’s cheeks burned and he curled his fists. How  _dare_ his kidnapper reprimand him for rightfully seeking his freedom! 

The teen flew up his hands “You’re a dickwad!” 

Bill jerked away before narrowing his eyes and raising his voice. Sensing the man had a few colorful words to say too, Dipper upped the ante and started swearing, all the while flailing his hands in agitation.

“I didn’t ask for this!” He bulldozed over the pharaoh’s own voice, his voice straining. “I don’t want this! This is  _not_  happening! I’m going home and  _you can’t stop me!”_

The teen spun on his heel and stormed down the massive hall lit by torches. A hand thudded on his shoulder, clenching tightly, and spun him around. He staggered, his head still spinning. Another hand clamped onto his other shoulder and the pharaoh shook him, yelling.

Dipper growled. “Get your hands  _off_ of me, you jerk!”

He slipped his arms between the man’s and shoved outwards, effectively removing the pharaoh’s hands. Quickly, he pivoted and broke into a sprint.

Sandals clapping against the floor, another set joined the sound. Dipper cursed. Couldn’t the dumb jerk realize when an advance was  _unwanted?_ The prick apparently thought he was a  _god!_ Didn’t the dummy realize he could be  _smited into smithereens_ for his insolence and disrespect or something? Arghh!

Bill’s unfortunately familiar commanding voice reverberated in the room and soon the thudding of footfalls entered the room. Dipper slid to a halt, eyes wide.

“No…” he breathed.

From the shadows into the dim light of the torches, guards  _so many guards,_  marched into view. How did so many appear?  _Why_ were there so many? Did the pharaoh change his mind about the marriage and decided to just kill him instead? 

Hope drained like the color fading from his face. The pharaoh ordered a command and the guards encircled the wide eyed teen. Heart hammering, Dipper retreated a step only to feel hands close around his upper arms and drag him into a bare chest. He squirmed.

“Let me go!” He pulled against the hold.

The rest of the guards surrounded him and the man holding him in place. Between the dimly lit bodies, Dipper could just barely see the pharaoh’s unreadable stare. The man lifted his chin, rolled his shoulders back, and swept out an arm. He issued a command and the guards obeyed.

The teen wriggled as he was dragged forwards. “No!” He protested. 

In a last ditch effort, he sought for the pharaoh’s gaze but the bodies shifted too fast and he was dragged deeper into the dark halls.

~oOo~ 

As time wore on, Dipper’s struggles faded and he fought to just stay awake. He stifled a yawn. Just how big  _was_  the palace and…was that music?

Dipper perked as the guards halted before twin massive doors. Two men marched forwards and pulled open the doors and the fast paced music hit him like a wave. Fire roared in the middle of the giant room, casting flickering shadows on the dancers shifting fluidly about the room.

Dipper blinked, transfixed by the sight as the guards led him deeper into the room. 

Pipes and flutes played, leading the melody. Sea-shelled castanets clicked rapidly to the fast paced beat. String instruments plucked with the rhythm, and a sistrum jangled in time to the steady tambourine.

Women and men alike weaved through the cheering crowd, but in the center of the room, surrounding the fire, were the dancers that caught Dipper’s focus.

Sitting in front of the flames atop a cushioned mat with his back straight and gaze zeroed on Dipper’s own, rested the grinning pharaoh. Around the man danced what Dipper assumed to be belly dancers. The women, garbed in vibrant colors of loose linen skirt and bra and bedazzled with jewels, flowed their bodies to the rhythm of the music.

The dancers, always in motion, moved in sync as they twisted their hips and torso in time to the beat. They shimmied and shivered, fluidly bending their arms to accentuate gestures. They flicked their heads and bent their backs with expertise crafted from constant practice.

Completely forgetting about the jerk that kept him trapped in the palace, Dipper stared at the dancers, awestruck and overwhelmed. Well,  _damn._  Egyptian parties were an  _art form._

Unbeknownst to Dipper or the party attendants, the pharaoh inwardly pouted. His soon to be groom was paying the party more attention than the pharaoh himself!

Dipper swiveled his gaze about the hieroglyphic inscribed room. He breathed in the sharp tang of incense and shifted his gaze onto a table piled high with food. He stared and his stomach growled. Oh…how long had it been since he’d last eaten?

Transfixed by the sight of bread and vegetables, Dipper slipped out of the guard’s loose grip and wandered to the table, the guards at his side. The crowd parted for him, several eyes staring, but he barely noticed, eyes set on the food. He reached for some pita bread.

A bronze hand slapped away his white one. He jerked his offended gaze up to meet the pharaoh’s own narrowed stare. Dipper scowled and swiped the bread. The jerk could  _suck it._

With their back to the crowd, Dipper blinked when he saw the pharaoh most definitely  _pout._ That couldn’t be a frown. The pharaoh was  _definitely_ pouting.

Dipper chuckled. The prick deserved whatever slight he had perceived.

Grinning and feeling his mischievous side rise, Dipper slowly bit into the bread. He made sure to add a pleased hum for extra seasoning of spite against the man. Oh wait,  _wow,_ the bread was pretty damn good!

Forgetting to continue his passive aggressive revenge against Bill, Dipper hurriedly stuffed his face and grabbed another piece of bread. Just before he could poof his cheeks with  _that_ piece of bread, Bill grasped his wrist with an amused glint to his eyes.

Dipper rolled his eyes and used his other hand to grab more bread. He then proceeded to shove the food into his mouth. Bill frowned.

The teen positively  _beamed._  Serves the jerk right! 

Rolling his own eyes, Bill dragged Dipper away from the table and led him to the fire, the guards following behind them. Dipper recoiled, paranoia flaring. The prick was gonna shove him into the flames! 

Instead of doing just that, Bill sat Dipper down onto a cushioned mat beside the pharaoh’s own mat. Dipper blinked. Oh. He hadn’t seen that there were  _two_ mats before…

Inhaling and munching on the bread, Dipper cast his gaze about the lively room as the pharaoh sat beside him. A servant approached the two with twin goblets and Dipper gladly accepted the drink. Only, the moment he took a swig, he paused. Huh, black tea rather than water or beer. Who knew?

Shrugging because the drink tasted good anyway and he was thirsty, Dipper downed the drink. Bill laughed beside him and issued a command to the servant. The servant left and Dipper yelped when he felt warmth wrap around his waist, tugging him close.

The teen scowled and pushed back against Bill’s hold but the man just laughed and held him tighter. Dipper growled out a protest but after a quick scan of his surroundings, he sighed. A man physically stronger than him pinned him in a side hug, guards hovered around the two, and to even get to the  _doors_  he’d have to shove his way through a  _massive_ crowd. 

Looks like he wouldn’t be escaping that night.

His eyes slipped closed.

~oOo~

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of Egypt at a core trade center, met two merchants at a stall.

The man with a brown complexion, sitting atop a camel, idly observed the black merchant’s wares. 

“My pharaoh will be marrying a god tomorrow.” The brown man noted, and lazily shifted his gaze from a wooden bow to reach into the bags saddled to the camel.

“Is that so?” The black merchant returned, watching with equally feigned disinterest.

“Yes.” He grasped a clay vase. “This for the bow?”

“Agreed.” The merchant accepted the pottery and offered the bow. “King Gleeful will not be pleased.”

He hummed. “Perhaps Nubia could use the luck of a god.”

The merchant grinned. “Perhaps it could.”

~oOo~

“Dipper.”

The teen groaned, eyes shut tight. Why was the world shaking?

“ _Dipper_.”

Urghh. Why did that voice sound familiar? Blearily, he opened his eyes.

“Dipper!”

Promptly, he paled.

“Bill!” His voice dropped in disappointment. “I’m still here…”

The pharaoh grinned and Dipper took a moment to realize that the man was bare chested because he  _didn’t have his robe on._

Face flaming a rosy hue, Dipper jerked away. He recoiled too far and tumbled out of the blankets and off the bed. He crashed to the floor and the jerk had the nerve to laugh.

“Urghhhh…” Dipper groaned, face smushed against the cool floor. “I hate you so much.”

The pharaoh chirped a response and clambered out of the bed. Hearing the rustling of fabric, Dipper’s cheeks burned and he turned away from the man.

“Dipper.” The man added a few more words.

The teen refused to look at the surely nude man because if the prick wasn’t wearing his  _robe,_ then he might not be wearing anything else!

“ _Diiii_ -per.” Bill called.

Dipper shook his head. “Nope. Not turning around.”

Bill scoffed and shifted about the room. Abruptly, the man jumped in front of him and Dipper stifled a scream.

Oh, wait.

The guy was indeed wearing clothes. 

Sending a stink eye at the laughing prick who currently was dressed in just a shendyt, he shifted his gaze onto what the pharaoh held in his hands.

Dipper huffed. “No. We’re not going through this–”

Bill rolled his eyes and shoved the pile of fabric into Dipper’s hands.

“–again.” Dipper sighed. “You took my hat again too, didn’t you?”

Figuring that the man had indeed hid the hat or put it out of reach, Dipper accepted the clothing. Great. This time the robe was another silky white. Dipper thinned his lips, stood, and ushered the grinning Bill out of the room.

Once the doors closed, he unfolded the fabric. “Great…” He heaved another sigh. “Just great.”

He changed into the robe and opened the door. Bill took the robe and handed it to one of the stationed guards. Bill guided Dipper to the same table from yesterday and Dipper shot a glare at the man. There, resting innocently on the far end of the table and bedazzled with plumage, sat his beaten up old hat.

“Did you  _really_ have to  _stab_ my hat with  _feathers?_ C’mon!”

Bill just hummed and picked up an arm band. Dipper rolled his eyes but complied. He wouldn’t be getting his hat back until he was all dolled up, apparently.

By the time the jewels were all on him once again, and his hat was securely on his head, the pharaoh led him out of the room and the stationary guards shifted into motion. Soon several more guards joined them as they walked until they were completely surrounded. And in Dipper’s case, trapped.

The teen gritted his teeth. How was he going to get out of  _this?_  He rubbed his arm as he followed Bill’s lead to what appeared to be a temple. Standing in front of the temple were a  _massive_ amount of people.

Dipper swallowed harshly, stomach churning and mind whirring. Temple. People. Feather in his hat that wasn’t there yesterday.

This was it.

He was marrying Bill.

The teen shuddered as the pharaoh looped an arm around his own and led him through the parted crowd and up the temple steps. The guards halted at the bottom of the stairs and together Bill and Dipper walked alone in the blistering sun.

They arrived at the top to find a man in a white linen shendyt and jewels. Dipper bit his lip. From what he had read of Egyptian culture, then this man was the priest who would marry the two.

The man held a flat paper length stone and what appeared to be a sharp arrowhead. Maybe the priest would use the sharp stone to write on the flat stone?

Curiosity peaking as they neared, Dipper rose onto his ip toes to peer at the flat stone. Neatly drawn hieroglyphics covered the surface save for the untouched surface near the bottom of the rock. 

Bill tugged on Dipper’s arm until the teen shifted to face the man, the priest standing nearly between them.

The priest spoke a few words, projecting his voice so the people at the bottom of the steps could hear. When the man finished, Bill added a few more words and Dipper stiffened when all eyes turned expectantly to him.

“Um…” Sensing the gist of what they were expecting but still not on board with the premise, Dipper stated. “I don’t?” 

Clearly not understanding his rejection, the crowd cheered and Bill grinned with shark’s teeth. Dipper scowled and the jerk just stretched his smile. The priest hurriedly etched a few words and raised the stone. Dipper turned to look at the stone and blinked.

Inscribed on the rock was the hieroglyphs for Bill’s name followed by Dipper’s name written in English. Huh. When did the man learn how to write his name? From Imhotep, maybe?

Still, the crowd cheered and Dipper’s stomach sank.

Where was a sphinx when he needed one?

~oOo~

The next day rolled around to find Dipper, once again, being dragged around the palace by an entirely  _too_ enthusiastic Bill. The pharaoh chattered excitedly, his arm hooked securely around Dipper’s own. The teen rolled his eyes as the man waved his free arm about the room, showing off the palace golden sights.

Dipper nodded along, eyes often scanning each room for a possible escape.

“Dipper!” Bill called, spinning the startled teen. “Dipper!”

“Yeah, yeah, you know my name.” Dipper sighed exasperatedly as he spun to a stop, staggering slightly. “Now would you calm down? It’s too hot to be jumping around.”

_“Dipper!”_ Bill cheered. “Dipper Dipper Dipper!”

Dipper fought down an amused smile. He didn’t want to encourage the guy.

“Alright, alright, what do you–“

A guard rushed into the room, shouting something in Egyptian, and Bill snapped from his playful energy to stern authority. The pharaoh pitched his voice to declare an order and the guard nodded, sprinting away. Bill pivoted, tightening his grip on Dipper’s arm, and stormed down the hall. Dipper’s stomach churned.

Bill looked downright  _furious._

Dipper struggled to follow after the man’s strong strides. They crossed the hall in seconds and arrived at a pair of large doors where a pair of stationed guards stood. The pharaoh shoved Dipper into one of the guard’s arms and issued a command. Bill shifted to the second man and delivered another demand. 

The guards nodded, one rushing away while the other dragged Dipper through the doors. Dipper watched Bill’s narrowed face soften as their gazes met, and then the doors clicked shut.

Soon, several more men appeared and surrounded Dipper and the guard holding him. They wound through the palace until Dipper started to vaguely recognize the area to be near the pharaoh’s chamber. Sure enough, the arrived at Bill’s quarters and the guards pushed Dipper through the wooden doors.

The jackals bounced around his feet as the doors closed behind him, the guards apparently guarding the door.

Whatever had happened was bad _._  Very, very,  _bad._

Although he didn’t know what had happened, he knew there wasn’t a  _chance_ he’d be able to sneak out the room. There were too many guards blocking the door and whatever threat had appeared  _certainly_ wouldn’t be able to get through Bill’s army that was soon to be stationed outside the room. After all, someone who was assumed to be a god was a treasure to protect, and the Egyptians apparently thought he was one.

He heaved a sigh and moved from the door to sit on the bed. Immediately, the puppies jumped onto the bed and clambered onto his lap. He chuckled and slid his hand through their soft black fur.

The door creaked open.

Dipper perked as a familiar man stepped into the room, holding a flat stone and utensil similar to the ones the priest had used the other day.

“Imhotep.” Dipper greeted with a nod.

“Dipper.” The man returned.

“So another language lesson, I guess?” 

The man, apparently understanding what Dipper must be curious about, nodded and sat cross legged on the floor. The teen gently pushed the puppies off his lap and slid to the floor as well, sitting beside his teacher.

They shifted through the motions like during their first lesson until Dipper caught on.

“Wait…” he paused. “You mean to tell me the neighboring country of Nubia is invading Egypt  _right now?_  And,” his voice squeaked, “and they’re after  _me?”_

One guy wanting to keep him was enough, but  _another one?_

Dipper stiffened when he heard a commotion outside the room. Were the invaders already at the door? Could the Egyptian guards fend them off? How much blood would paint the day? He straightened when he heard rustling behind them followed by a pair of dull thuds. Someone cleared their throat.

Slowly, Dipper turned.

A man with a deep and dark complexion, framed by the window, aimed an arrow at the student and teacher. The teen swallowed harshly.

“Nubian?” Dipper questioned.

Imhotep stepped in front of him. “Nubian.” He answered.

The teen bit his lip and grasped his arm as more black skinned soldiers clambered out of the window and piled into the room, each taking a fighting stance with arrows drawn. He stepped closer to the only familiar man in the room.

And then a young man, dazzled in jewels with a bow and filled quiver slung across his back, strode forwards through the crowd. Dipper stared at the man’s richly colored face and poofy brown hair, somehow styled to rise to the sky. How did the guy manage to poof his hair like that?

_Priorities._  Where were they? For all he knew, he was about to be killed or kidnapped! Again.  _Great_.

The man, clearly the leader, announced in what Dipper could only assume to be Nubian. Imhotep pressed his back against Dipper’s torso, as if that would protect the teen more, and replied in Egyptian.

The Nubian king raised a brow and shifted his gaze from Imhotep to Dipper. His uninterested stare sparked with interest the moment he spotted the teen peering around the Egyptian’s bulk.

The stranger spoke and Dipper blinked. Did he just switch to Egyptian? Dipper frowned. well it  _would_ make sense if the man was fluent in the language of the neighboring country. Besides, didn’t the two countries trade with one another despite their rivalry? Dipper shook his head. Whoo, he  _really_  needed to stop zoning out.

The Nubian king straightened, deepened his high pitched voice, and swept an arm.

Promptly, an arrow whizzed through the air.

Imhotep screamed.

Dipper gasped, eyes shot wide, as his mentor crumbled to the floor with blood pooling from the his chest. Dipper made to drop to the floor but the Nubian king himself snatched his arm and dragged him away from the wheezing Egyptian.

Fearing for his life and still in shock after just watching a man be  _shot by an arrow,_  Dipper numbly let the king yank him into the crowd of soldiers. The king manhandled him until he was tucked and tied securely into the crook of an arm, and then the man climbed out the window and scaled down the palace walls.

Dipper’s stomach churned and he resisted the urge to struggle. Although Dipper’s torso was bound to the king’s waist by rope, the man wasn’t secured to anything. There was a chance that if he struggled, the king and he would fall off the wall and from  _this_ height…? Well they’d go  _splat!_

Heart lodged in his throat, Dipper tried to remain as still as possible as they descended. Not soon enough, the king’s feet touched sand and Dipper started to squirm.

Ignoring his struggles, the taller man just straightened, patted the teen’s back with his free hand and darted off, his soldiers at his heels. Though several Egyptians appeared to block their way, the Nubians fended them off with well aimed arrows, but quite a few Egyptians managed to dodge the arrows and stab some of the soldiers with spears. Blood from both sides was spilled.

Dipper felt  _sick._  

So much blood and so many deaths.

All because they wanted  _him._

He bit his lip, looking away as the Nubians barreled through the Egyptian ranks. What could he do? There  _had_ to be a way to stop the two countries from fighting! But to do that, he’d need to leave–which he planned to do anyway–or maybe… He wracked his mind for a solution as the Nubians sprinted across the desert sands.

What could he do?

He was shaken from his concentration when the rope around his torso loosened and hands hooked beneath his arms. The Nubian king lifted the startled teen into the air and saddled him atop a camel.

Dipper blinked.  _Whoa._ Where’d all the camels come from?

The animal glanced at him and snorted, rearing back its head, and spat spit on the sand. Dipper cringed. He  _definitely_ wasn’t fond of this one.

The king laughed and launched himself atop the camel and, oddly enough, behind the teen. The man grasped the camel’s reins fashioned out of rope and in the process, kept Dipper pinned between his arms. The teen thinned his lips, shifting uncomfortably in the stranger’s hold.

“Hut-hut!” The king commanded and the camel broke into a trot.

The soldiers leapt atop their respective camels and followed suit, following their leader.

Dipper sighed.

He was in for a  _long_ ride.

~oOo~

Apparently, he was alsoin for  _another_ wedding.

Dipper eyed the beautiful henna decorating his forearms. He’d been stuffed into yet another white robe with only minor differences such as longer sleeves. Each accessory had been replaced, but the jewelry looked pretty much the same to the teen.

Regardless of his new attire, he was in for a whirl of trouble.

“Dipper!” The Nubian king called voice clearly impatient.

The teen sighed. Once again, the lone window was too high up to escape out of and the lone exit was barricaded by Nubian guards. He almost wanted to laugh at the mirroring events…if it weren’t for the fact that Nubian king had a shorter temper than the pharaoh.

“Hold on Gideon!” He returned.

They’d gone through the introductions of a hand against the chest, and now they were going through the motions of getting married…again.

Dipper brushed a hand through his hair and opened the doors. The Nubian king’s scowl morphed into a gleeful grin. Dipper shuddered. He did  _not_ like that smile.

The man spoke in rapid Egyptian and grasped Dipper’s forearm, dragging him down the palace hall and soon out into the sunlight. Dipper squinted against the light.

Gideon yanked him along, down the stairs and soon onto a camel. Dipper could only assume they were going to a temple.  _Again._

_“Dipper!”_

The teen froze. That…that  _couldn’t_ be.

Slowly, he turned. “Bill?” 

His eyes blew wide when Gideon spat out Egyptian and ripped the bow from his back and an arrow from his quiver. Bill himself stood not too far away, wielding a spear, and looking downright  _murderous._  The king and pharaoh exchanged heated sneers.

Dipper made to clamber off the camel but a sharp glare from Gideon kept him in place. Maybe he  _didn’t_ want to get involved between two jerks holding lethal objects.

The two readied their objects and Dipper bit his lip. He should intervene. But would they  _listen_ to him? He grasped his arm as the two neared one another. Could he just idly stand by while one, or even  _both,_ of them  _died?_

_No._

_“Stop!”_ He flung out his arms and jumped off the camel, wincing as the momentum from the landing shot up his legs.

_He was_ not  _watching someone else die tonight._

Resolve set, Dipper tackled the man closest to him: Gideon. Taken off guard, Dipper barely managed to wrestle the bow free of the man’s grip before untangling himself and hurling the bow out of reach. 

Bill grinned upon realizing Dipper was running towards him. He stretched out his arms for a hug or something and Dipper seized the chance. He snatched Bill’s spear, shoved him to the ground, and rushed to the ground between the two. 

He had an idea.

Gideon could speak Egyptian. But could he also  _read_ Egyptian?

Hastily, he upended the spear and stabbed the ground, hurriedly scribbling the familiar hieroglyphics. Too stunned to remember beating each other up, Bill and Gideon stood and wandered over, watching Dipper work.

Soon Dipper had scribbled out the desired words, looked at Bill and then swiveled a stern gaze to Gideon. He cleared his throat, tapped the ground with the spear, and then pointed at Bill followed by pointing at Gideon.

Understanding dawned on the men’s faces and their expressions scrunched.

They shook their heads stubbornly but Dipper persisted.

Marriages were often made to resolve tensions between lands, weren’t they? And if the two men had no problem marrying a  _male_ then they should have no problem marrying _each other!_ Never mind the fact they clearly hated each other’s  _guts._

But hey, they thought he was a  _god,_  didn’t they? Maybe they could assume that was his job all along–to unite the rivaling countries.

As the two men started a heated argument with Dipper, the teen rolled his eyes. His decision was  _final_  and if they didn’t like it then they could just–

His eyes widened.

There, not too far away and watching the proceedings with a tilted head, was the sphinx.

Dipper dropped the spear and  _sprinted._ Spotting him, the creature’s eyes shot wide but before the feline could poof away he flung himself at the animal and hung on tight.

“Take me  _home!”_ He shouted, a borderline plea.

And they poofed away.

~oOo~

“…and that’s how I got a sunburn and these weird clothes.”

“I dunno, bro-bro, they  _still_  look like a costume to me.”

“ _Mabel.”_ Dipper heaved a sigh and sank further into the couch. “I was gone for  _days._ Where do you–“

“ _Hours_.” His sibling corrected, sitting on the arm chair. 

“What?”

Mabel grasped the bottom of her socked feet and kicked her legs like she used to when she was a child. “You’ve only been gone for a few hours.”

“But that’s not…how’s that…”

His sibling rolled her eyes. “You sure you haven’t raided my stash of Smile Dip?”

He spluttered. “ _No.”_

She grinned and hopped off her perch. “Good! And, bro-bro? You’re talking about  _time travel.”_

“Which we’ve  _done_ before–“

“Yeah, yeah,” she waved a hand. “But doesn’t that just mean that while you were technically gone a few days, you time traveled back to not long after you left. You got lucky, bro-bro.”

“Wait, so you believe me?”

She scoffed. “Of  _course_  I do! Can’t you tell when I’m teasing?”

He sank into the chair. “I’ve been dragged from one country to another, married in the blistering sun, and haven’t eaten anything in what feels like  _days._  Can’t you cut me some slack?”

She blew him a raspberry. “I  _still_ can’t believe got married before me! That’s so unfair!”

_“Mabel!”_  He whined. “Where’s the sympathy?”

She laughed and exited the room “In Egypt!”

He huffed and crossed his arms. What a unsympathetic  _meanie_.

Still… Absently, he shifted his gaze to the peeling ceiling.

What happened after he left?

~oOo~

“Dipper!” Bill and Gideon called, outstretching a hand.

Too late, their groom and the sphinx vanished. Together, the leaders sighed and shifted their gaze onto the sand.

Bill shifted his weight onto one leg. “So. Marriage.”

Gideon studied the writing and sighed. “A god’s will, it seems.”

The pharaoh scrunched his face. “I hate to say it…but perhaps that was the whole purpose of his visit, to unite our countries.”

“Perhaps so.” The Nubian king agreed.

“Then it seems we need to prepare the festivities.”

“Indeed.”

Inwardly, the pharaoh and king cringed. They had to marry their  _rival?_

Dipper  _sucked._

_Fin_


End file.
